


In Which Mrs Weasley Has Ventured Beyond the Customary Jumper

by entirely_the_wrong_sort



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Grimmauld Place, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entirely_the_wrong_sort/pseuds/entirely_the_wrong_sort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over Christmas with the Order, Harry doesn’t learn very much from his mentors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Mrs Weasley Has Ventured Beyond the Customary Jumper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RS Small Gifts 2014 over on LJ, which is a lovely wintertime fest. Not posting this at a very good time, eh? But I can't wait.

The inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were spread thin after they returned from St Mungo’s, everybody taking time to themselves to enjoy their new gifts and revel in the comfortable atmosphere that lay over the house like warm syrup. For the first time since he’d known the place, Harry could actually imagine it as a home.

After Ron had gone for a bath, to waste all of the salts and lotions he’d received from distant aunts, Harry headed downstairs with the book Sirius and Lupin had given him, trailing crumbs from Mrs Weasley’s mince pies over the creaky stairs. The drawing room fire was crackling merrily beneath the ornate mantelpiece, and the wireless mumbling outdated Christmas classics in one corner almost made it feel like he imagined Christmas at the Burrow would be. Mrs Weasley was sat with Bill and Ginny in one corner playing cards and on the sofa was Lupin, reading. Harry joined him by the fire, coiling himself into an uncomfortable armchair and leafing through his book lazily.

“Evening, Harry,” Lupin said, looking up, “you like the book, then?”

“Yeah, it’s really great, thanks; exactly what I need, now I’m running out of things to teach everyone in the DA.” Harry offered his former professor a mince pie, which he accepted.

“It’s really quite brilliant, what you’re doing, Harry. As your old professor I have to say that I'm very proud of you,” Lupin smiled.

“Well, as your old student, I don’t mind telling you how much of an influence you had.”

They spent a while in comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth and rare moment of peace.

“Actually, sir- Remus,” Harry asked, “there is something I haven’t been able to work out, if you wouldn’t mind..?”

“Not at all Harry, go ahead,” Lupin nodded, setting his own book aside.

Just then, Sirius bustled his way awkwardly into the room, holding a tea tray laden with plates of cold turkey, mince pies and biscuits. He held the door open with a foot as a procession of teapots and cups floated passed him and settled on every table surface.

“Evening, all,” he beamed to the room at large, as he set down his tray on a pouffe before the fireplace, “you like the book then, Harry?” He threw himself down on the sofa beside Lupin, draping his arms over the cushions behind his friend.

“We were just discussing an issue Harry’s been having with a spell, Sirius, if you’d care to lend your expert advice.” Harry saw Lupin nudge Sirius’ foot with his own. They both wore newly knitted red socks, although Sirius’ were less well-made; Harry suspected his had been Mrs Weasley’s first attempt.

“Go on then, mate, what’s the problem?”

“It’s not a spell as such... more generally about the application of changes of state to living matter under high pressure circumstances, like duelling.”

Lupin and Sirius glanced at each other, the former with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“He means transfiguration,” Sirius answered, “right, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose, but specifically organic metastability manipulation more than anything. See,” Harry closed the book in his lap and straightened up to face his mentors more directly. “I get the theory easy enough, but performing the spellwork is always a lot harder and longer than it should be, especially when going from lower to higher energetic states.”

Sirius nodded slowly after he finished but both men sat in silence as though waiting for Harry to continue.

“Well,” he prompted, “can you give me any tips?”

“Oh, we don’t know,” Lupin said. The pine logs in the fireplace crackled loudly in the silence left by a lull in the music, and the men just looked at Harry blankly as he blinked.

“Oh, really?” Harry frowned, disappointed. “I just thought you guys were transfiguration geniuses, what with the animagus thing and all.”

Lupin shook his head with a grim smile. “Not me. My transformations are not voluntary.”

“Yeah, and mastering personal human to animal metamorphosis does not make one an expert in all areas of transfiguration, Harry,” Sirius said pointedly.

“You study, you learn, and we never did any studying that didn’t suit us.”

“Except you of course, Moony.” Sirius reached forward and grabbed a handful of shortbread biscuits. He dropped half of them into Lupin’s outstretched hand and stuffed the rest into his mouth at once.

“The statement stands, Padfoot: I never did any studying that didn’t suit _you_.”

“Tha’ no’ ‘roo!” Sirius whined through his food, reminding Harry of Ron. 

Lupin shook his head bemused at Sirius, gently elbowed him away and turned to Harry. “Anyway, the point is, we don’t know half as much about transfiguration as Professor McGonagall. You’re best to ask her.”

“But I wouldn’t worry about it, Harry,” Sirius said, having swallowed the majority of his mouthful, “it’s not all that useful in _high pressure situations_ as you call them, anyway.”

“Are you saying you never happened to need this stuff, fighting out there, in the real world?” Harry frowned.

“Nope. It’s all hexes and charms, mate.” Sirius shrugged and glanced at Lupin, who tilted his head in consideration. 

“I’m actually inclined to agree with you there, Padfoot. Transfiguration is great if you’re quick and want to get creative, but I know I was never clever enough for that.”

“I wouldn’t let McGonagall hear you say that,” Harry grinned with raised eyebrows.

“Nah,” Sirius waved. “The old girl knows what we think of her subject. The hours we spent trying _so hard_ not to listen to her classes... well, that’s when she had the chance to get a word in, anyway...”

“Ah, the vengeful feather pillow event of ’73?” Lupin asked, deadpan and calm. 

Sirius smirked at him. “Or, the glorious guilty frog disaster of ’75.”

“What about the exploding pincushion porcupines? In retrospect, a horrible, horrible idea.”

“Oh yeah, James got detention for a month for that one!”

Harry’s stomach was fluttering and he’d unconsciously sat forward in his seat; he always longed to hear about his dad and his friends’ adventures, and it was so rare that he had the chance to talk to either of them about the past and even rarer to find Sirius in a good enough mood to want to. Both of them looked happier and more relaxed than he’d seen them all holiday, side by side, reminiscing by the light of the dancing fire. They all laughed heartily as they divulged to Harry the details of the worst of their classroom crimes.

“Wow, we really gave her hell didn’t we? I’m amazed she hasn’t turned you over to the dementors yet.” Lupin chuckled. He leaned over to the table to pour them all cups of steaming tea. “So then, Harry, if you’d like help with advanced rebelling, we can happily help with that at least.”

“So that’s what you were doing instead of learning in school?” Harry laughed, accepting his teacup. Lupin settled back into the sofa, minutely closer to Sirius, whose right arm, Harry noticed, had dropped behind Lupin abstractedly.

“No, no, Potter, we were learning; just not what we were being _taught_.”

“Trouble making opens a whole new skill set, mate. Just ask the talented Fred and George. Mainly, it’s about not getting _into_ trouble. Sure, you’ll often fail and get caught but seventy percent of our work went successfully uncredited. This tea is perfect, Moony.”

“It’s all in the art of distraction. A subject your godfather here always excelled at,” Lupin smirked sagely.

“Heh, on your list of great distractions, I’ll bet there’re stars by my name, aren’t there?” Sirius grinned over his cup.

“Padfoot, you’ve got the page to yourself.”

“Good,” he chuckled in his bark-like manner, “I like it that way.”

“Honestly, those twelve years apart were the most focussed of my life –”

“Shut it, you arse!”

Sirius shoved him sideways, making Lupin slosh his tea over his jumper. Both Harry and Sirius laughed, Harry at least a little guiltily, but even Lupin wore an easy smile as he swore under his breath. 

“See, it’s doing annoying things like this that made people give us a wide berth at school. No wonder you had no other friends.”

“Speak for yourself, Moony.” Sirius casually pulled the wand from Lupin’s pocket and with a flick, the stain was gone. “People were falling over themselves to be my friend.” 

“Sirius, it was seven years before Lily could even get _close_ to James, what with you in the way wreaking havoc.” He winked at Harry, whose stomach gave another gentle jolt.

“We were all far too busy making mischief for _courting_. Lily was too powerful a distraction; she had to be diverted.” Sirius stated matter-of-factly with his nose in the air. “We at least kept _our_ romance out of the shenanigan stew.”

Lupin’s smile faltered for a split second and he stole a well-disguised nervous glance at Harry, before recovering with a laugh and a sip of his tea. “Ha, please; I was just too married to the role of being a good prefect for any of that, and I know full well that you tried your hardest to keep romance as far away as possible.” Sirius opened his mouth to respond, a look of bemusement across his features, but Lupin nudged his knobbly-socked foot with his own well-knitted twin again, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “But Harry’s not interested in us old has-beens, are you, Harry?”

Sirius was the only family Harry had, and so was Lupin for his part; they mattered as much to him as Ron and Hermione. Harry wanted to tell him that of course he was interested, that he wanted nothing more than to get to know his godfather and his favourite professor better, to hear all about the lives that they’d spent with the parents he’d never known. He wanted to know them like he would’ve known his parents by proxy. But at Lupin’s tone, he fought the powerful temptation to tell them this, and simply laughed, grabbing a mince pie and offering the plate to the both of them. 

They all sat contently, munching on their pies and chatting about Hogwarts past and present whilst avoiding politics. The new Christmas release _‘Floo Me Home For Christmas, Baby’_ was playing over the wireless for what seemed like the eightieth time this holiday and the warbling blended with the gentle rowdiness of the card game in the corner. A short while later, Ron popped his head around the door frame, assaulting everyone’s noses with a potent blend of lavender, peppermint, chestnuts and (weirdly) bacon.

“Oi mate, Fred and George’re trying out their new board game. Wanna come play?” He beckoned to Harry before disappearing immediately out of sight.

“Go on, Harry,” Sirius waved, giving him leave to go.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you wanted to join in?” Harry said, though confident that they would indeed mind.

“Maybe later if it’s any good, eh? Go on.” 

“Well, thanks for the Transfiguration advice anyway - you really cleared that up for me, sir,” he grinned dryly.

“You’re welcome, Potter.” Lupin winked at his cheekiness.

He nodded at them and pushed himself out of the armchair that had grown cosier over time, gathered up his new book and stole another biscuit for the road. The ambiance of the whole house had been transformed from haunted to happy by reams of holly and tinsel. His heart felt so much lighter in his chest, knowing that nearly everyone that meant something to him was gathered in one place filled him with hope for a calmer future surrounded by family that may not be too far away.

As Harry reached the door, he turned back to see Sirius with his arm wrapped around Lupin’s shoulders, the latter wearing a smile that took ten years off his ever-tired face, the two of them sharing the first real merry Christmas in fourteen years.


End file.
